The Fighters
by Rustito
Summary: A Green Earth Fighter pilot is shot down over Blue Moon territory. Can he get out of the country safely and get back to his airbase?
1. Introduction

The Fighters By RustyD  
  
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Intro  
  
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"It was a long time ago when it happened, I don't really remember the exact date it started to tell you the truth. It was a few days after our commander Eagle learned that Andrew, that Orange Star kid, wasn't behind the attacks on Green Earth, I do believe. I was stationed at some old airbase that was close to the Blue Moon border; the base ain't there anymore, but that's later in my story. In any case, some idiot turned it into a trailer park. What's that? The kid went by 'Andy'? Oh, whatever...  
  
The airbase me 'n' everyone was at was actually the closest Green Earth airbase to the border, and as you can probably imagine, that gave us some hefty responsibilities in the war. When I was transferred there from someplace even worse, I was kind of reluctant to even get up in the air and go over the border because of all the anti-air that was there, ready to blow us out of the sky like they were duck hunting.  
  
My times during the war weren't all fun, and they weren't all bad either, but I don't really want to get into the unimportant stuff. But if you really want to know what I went through during that one portion of the war and what my comrades went through too, listen up because I'm not going to repeat myself. I hope you're taking notes." 


	2. I

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-I-  
  
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"BOOM!"  
  
A massive explosion tore through the skies, its loud boom sounding off for miles around. From the cockpit of a Green Earth fighter plane, the pilot could easily tell his squad's mission had been a success. It was simple to realize, seeing as how the Blue Moon bomber that had been flying peacefully, almost dumbfly along in the wide open blue only a minute earlier had horrifically been blown to pieces by a well-aimed missile from one of the five green jets cruising the air.  
  
"That's some good shooting, Gordon. Looks like our mission's done with."  
  
In one of the Green Earth jets, Glenn Gordon was still recovering from the excellent rush of giving the Blue Moon air brigade a very big kick in the pants. It had only taken one missile to demolish the bomber, and they had been fighting the enemy plane for only a little less than a full minute. His position must have been a big help towards remaneuvering the Blue Moon bastard's course straight for the ground in a firey ball of flame, or maybe the bomber was just really old and needed one more mission 'til it hit the retirement field. Too bad if it were the latter.  
  
"That took less time then I thought it would, sir."  
  
"Well, let's head back to base before unexpected company decides to drop in. Blue Moon probably recieved a distress signal from that big old fireball down over yonder before it bit the dust. Or should I say, hit the dust!"  
  
There was always the danger in enemy Fighters being with bombers, accompanying them on their merry little destructive ways. Glenn never liked running into escorts, and, truth be told, he didn't like being one himself. Unfortunately, he already had his next mission lined out in his head. He hadn't recieved an escort mission for quite a while, and it was about due time the higher ups gave him one, along with a few words of wisdom he didn't want from the old retired air people. "Them escort missions are some tough beans to boil," they'd tell him, "you gotta protect them bombers with your own durn life, son, or the mission's sent straight to the boiler room. You wanna go to the boiler room, son?"  
  
He hated escort missions. In fact, so did all the other active pilots who were currently stationed at the Clinton airbase in the northern Green Earth region.  
  
By now, the green Fighters were in a V formation calmly, the flight leader leading the pack. It was the 56th squadron's usual flying routine. They were headed south back to the airbase.  
  
There was no more resistance from the enemy on their way back to the base, save for a few anti-air machines whose controllers must have been drunk at their posts, they were such bad shots. The five planes each landed on the Clinton base's runway one by one until they all were safely on the ground and stopped, each of the jets wondering when it was going to get to show its muscle against the Blue Moon forces again.  
  
As Glenn was struggling to get out of the cockpit of his own Fighter, a Green Earth infantryman who was stationed at the base came jogging up by the aircraft. He panted wheasily, quite out of breath from the quick run over to Glenn and his plane, and attempted to get his words out without fudging them up by gasping for his breath.  
  
"Excuse me (wheeeeze) Lieutenant Gordon, but (gasp) Captain Shamrock wishes (wheeze) to--" The soldier's words were interrupted when he began coughing and hacking noisily, and then started gasping for breath. He grabbed at an inhaler and put it up to his mouth. Seconds later, he lowered the inhaler, free from his asthma attack. Glenn stood there all the while with the most impatient look he could muster onto his face.  
  
"Captain Shamrock is calling you to his office, Lieutenant."  
  
"Thank you, soldier." Glenn quickly saluted the young, air-deprived man as he began walking away with his pilot helmet in his hands. He didn't want to see Clay Shamrock in his flying suit with his short brown hair going every which way it could. He'd change into his casual uniform first.  
  
Only fifteen minutes later, Glenn was walking through the halls of the air base's small office area, heading directly for the glass door with the name of his commander on it: "Capt. Clay William Shamrock".  
  
Clay Shamrock was a rather difficult man to please. When Glenn had first entered the Green Earth air force, Shamrock had taken it upon himself to entrust the poor boy with the oldest model of the Green Earth Fighter available. He then had ordered him to escort a bombing raid over one of Blue Moon's most well known military bases. The bomber had been taken out by anti-air before the pilot had even begun calculating when he was to drop the deadly cargo the doomed thing was carrying, and Glenn was having trouble fighting barely three Blue Moon battle copters with the tub of beet juice he was flying himself. He had fully expected the plane to stop in mid-air as if it were a helicopter, sputter for a second or two, and drop to the dirt like a sack of bricks. He couldn't even remember how he had come back from the mission alive, but Shamrock was mighty displeased with him about the failed mission when he finally came back. He had fully shown it, too.  
  
Glenn nervously knocked on the door. Shamrock looked up from whatever he was doodling at on his desk and, seeing the pilot through the glass, waved for Gordon to step into the room. Glenn carefully shuffled into the office whether he wanted to or not, and took off his officer's cap for a show of respect towards the higher-ranking man before him.  
  
Strangely enough, Shamrock gave him a very encouraging smile, one worthy of appearing on one of those inane Health magazines Glenn had often seen on the shelves of the market in the town near Clinton.  
  
"Lieutenant, so here you are." Glenn smiled back rather unwillingly and nodded some before he stepped closer to the horribly messy desk of his commander's. Shamrock would end up getting right to the point before the Fighter pilot could even utter a single word. "That was some flying you did up there a little while ago, Gordon. I heard how you were doing from Roger Winters during your flight back to base."  
  
Roger Winters was the leader of Glenn's flight, and the son of General John Winters, the chief of command at the 56th Squadron Clinton base. He was a good man to fly with and he was a good man who could get your flaming tail out of trouble quickly. However, if he could, Glenn would choose John Winters' daughter rather than his son as a flight partner anyday for obvious reasons.  
  
"Just trying to get the high score, sir." Shamrock apparently must not have played video games because he obviously didn't understand what Gordon had meant due to the look on his face.  
  
"Right, sure. Well, just for doing a good job..."  
  
Here we go, Glenn thought.  
  
"...I'm going to give you..."  
  
A special mission.  
  
"...a special mission."  
  
Glenn smiled uneasily and shifted from one foot to another while he kept a wary eye on Shamrock. He knew what was about to come. "What might that mission be, sir?"  
  
He knew darned well what it was and both of them knew it, most likely. "Your mission is..."  
  
Please not an escort mission, please not an escort mission, please not an escort mission, please not an escort mission, please not an escort mission.  
  
"...an escort mission."  
  
Something inside Glenn Gordon fell about fifty thousand feet into a small glass of instant sorrow.  
  
"Sir, with all due respect, I would like to request a different mission type."  
  
Shamrock eyed Glenn, a few unknown, probably random thoughts running through his head. Could Gordon be blamed? It seemed as if everyone hated escort missions nowadays, as if they felt being someone's babysitter would give their "rough tough fighter pilot" image a bad look. In reality, escort missions were a load of stress. You had to be close to whatever you were accompanying at all times, you could hardly take your eyes off it. It reminded Glenn of those no-win situations from flight school. It seemed all of the no-win situations in the flight simulator were during escort missions. Maybe that was why everyone hated it, because of that flight sim and all the bad memories of dozens upon dozens of enemy Fighters swarming you and the one other plane you were flying with, the plane you were supposed to be at least mildly protecting.  
  
"Denied."  
  
That was probably what he should have expected. There was no way around it now, so he decided he might as well give it a shot. There wasn't a whole lot of use in putting it off. Glenn found putting off missions he didn't want very comparable to going to the dentist. It's something that's most likely going to seem like Hell in its full rage when you're actually there and doing it, but afterwards, you don't think too much of it. That is, until the next appointment is scheduled.  
  
"Here are your orders, Gordon." Shamrock handed him a sheet of paper detailing the layout of the bombing raid and each member of the raid's tactical objective. His was to guard the two bombers who were hopefully going to destroy the Blue Moon base, and his was the same as a few other pilots who were to escort the bombers. They probably felt the same way he did now, too.  
  
"Yes, sir." Glenn solemnly slid his officer's cap back onto his head and saluted Shamrock In response, he recieved a sleazy salute himself and was motioned for the door as if Shamrock were his governor, telling him when to leave and when not to leave. Glenn quickly made his escape before the Captain could force another order up his nose.  
  
"Hey, pilgrim, get a mosquitoe biting from Cap'n Shamrock?"  
  
One of Glenn's more favored flying partners, Dario Yossarian, had been standing by the door boredly, listening in on the muffled conversation behind the glass. He was another good pilot, one Glenn Gordon could often rely on, but he was also a very good prankster, and proud of it. Glenn basically found him to be a witch's mixture of two of the Orange Star Commanding Officers, Andy and Max, as they were called.  
  
"I really don't feel like talking about that, Dario."  
  
"I can dig it." Yossarian also happened to have a trashbag of bad sayings such as the one he had just blurted out.  
  
Glenn Gordon was well-known and liked for having the keen abilty to know how to have a good time, but he never went to the extremes that Yossarian often went to. A good long while before then at a formal party the allied COs were conducting, a bit before the war, Dario had made quite an impression on another one of the Orange Star Commanding Officers, Nell. Quite an impression, in fact, such a good one that the rather attractive young lady had grabbed a glass of punch and forced it right down Yossarian's uniform shirt, and seeing as how he had come in with Dario, Glenn got kicked right out with him too.  
  
"Did you get signed up for tomorrow's bombing raid?"  
  
"No, and thank you Lord, I say. I wouldn't want to be stuck up there over that bleedin' ant hill with those anti-air bumblers shooting them spitballs up at my plane."  
  
Yossarian hadn't been signed up for the mission. That was a surprise, Glenn and Dario were almost always paired up on escort missions. But then again, Dario had gone on and decided to accept an escort mission that someone who was supposed to do had almost commited an ancient form of killing themselves over. "Maybe I'll get promoted," Dario had spouted.  
  
"Well, Gordo, I've got the day off and I have been bored as a bicycle here waiting for you 'n' Fencer 'n' Krazy Kel or someone to finish your flights, let's go to into town and get plastered or somethin'."  
  
"Ten-HUT!" Someone in the halls who had spotted a newcomer coming in had called out the command that got quite alot of attention.  
  
Suddenly, everyone who was walking along beside Glenn and Dario in the halls stood fully upright, put their feet together, and put their hands to their sides as they looked straight ahead at nothing in particular. It wasn't strange to Glenn and Dario because they happened to be doing the same. If they weren't doing what everyone else was suddenly doing, whoever had walked in would probably feel quite dissapointed in their disrespectfulness.  
  
A gray-haired man in a flying uniform walked down the halls, and eventually past the two Fighter pilots who were still by Captain Shamrock's glass door.  
  
When the man took a corner that went towards the General's office, everyone in the hall began going about their business again. Dario folded his arms with a smile.  
  
"Didn't know Eagle was gonna be here."  
  
"Well, he pops in sometimes unexpectedly, you have to be ready. He probably just wants to discuss strategy with the General."  
  
"Yeah. Although it's unexpected like you said, it's always nice to see him."  
  
Glenn was personally glad he was in the air force and not the navy. If he were in the latter, he had an unwavering feeling that the person who "popped in" every once in a while at the ports would not be a man he looked forward to seeing, unlike Eagle. He could still remember formally meeting the commander of the Green Earth sea forces once at the same casual party Dario had put the moves on Nell on. "Arrr, ye hawk-eyed buzzards bein' behaved for me favorite landlubber Eagle? Ye winds blowin' north fer ye these seastormin' days of belligerence?" The rest of Drake's sentences had been impossible for the average man to sort out and understand completely. Glenn had given up halfway through.  
  
"Well... Let's just forget going into town, Dario. I think I'm just gonna hang out in the barracks and get out a book, I guess." This immediately caused Dario to scrunch up his face in doubt and give Glenn the silliest look ever.  
  
"A book? Why would you want to read a book? We got television, boy, television! You can't get something like that action scene in 'The Watrix' out of a million-page, dusty, old, chunka disintegratin' paper scrap like a book."  
  
"Dario Yossarian, you need to look at your words a little closer." Glenn got tired of Dario's uncensored mouth sometimes, and this time was no exception. "I'm going back to the barracks." Before Yossarian could give him some more useless nonsense, Glenn stepped past his friend and down the halls.  
  
Dario gave his friend a stubborn look. "Yeah well, I can name a few programs on TV that you can't get from books," he said to himself with a wretched grin. "Most of the time, anyway."  
  
It was later in the evening, about eight, when the barracks were pretty much full of everyone in the 56th squadron. Glenn was lying on his bed, still scanning the pages of a random novel that Henry, the base librarian, had recommended to him. Dario was right about one thing. Sometimes, television was alot more interesting than books. This particular paperheap that he had rented was probably the most dull thing he had ever decided to lay his eyes on.  
  
Right about then, Captain Shamrock stepped into the barracks. "Listen up, people." Only a few of the military men lying on their bunks actually took the time to lazily move their eyesight towards the officer. "Some of you probably saw Eagle here earlier. Well, he and the General had recieved a message from Blue Moon that said commanding officer Olaf was going to call this base personally tonight. Eagle and Olaf just now finished conversing with each other via telephone. Santa-man apparently got word of the loss of one of his bombers over south Blue Moon territory, and questioned us and our integrity to the 56th about it himself since we're the closest base to the border."  
  
Now, more than a couple of folks in the barracks were listening, including Glenn. "He's obviously made a major note to keep this airbase on his hitlist. Don't sleep too soundly, boys." Captain Shamrock turned on his heel and stepped out the barracks' door, an unhappy look on his face.  
  
Since Eagle had realized that Orange Star and the real Andy were not behind the well-placed attacks on both Yellow Comet and Green Earth, he had decided to go after Olaf and the mysterious CO of a country Glenn did not know of. However, this particular base and along with a few more, were ordered to, instead of going into combat against Orange Star forces, battle against Blue Moon forces. Glenn would personally treat every enemy the same, whether they weren't really supposed to be his enemy or not.  
  
Glenn Gordon wondered to himself when the war would end. He had more than thirty missions to his name now, and almost no botched missions to account for. Unfortunately, as long as a war was still going on, he would have to fight in it whether he wanted to or not.  
  
He sighed as his head hit the pillow on his bunk, and he continued to wonder until he eventually drifted off to sleep for the night. 


	3. II

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-II-  
  
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High up in the sky, two Green Earth bombers flew along over Blue Moon territory, accompanied by four Green Earth fighters. Roger Winters was flying ahead of the squad as everyone in the Fighter cockpits scouted around, making sure no enemy aircraft was in sight. If there were, they would immediately have to deal with Green Earth.  
  
"Ten minutes to target, skies are clear."  
  
They had easily crossed the border without resistance from Blue Moon. So far, it was shaping up to actually be a pretty simple escort mission, but something was bound to go wrong. Glenn just had that bad feeling he always had during escort missions. Something was bloody bound to bloody go wrong, and if it didn't bloody happen before he bloody cracked, then he would bloody die in the bloody cockpit of this bloody plane!  
  
Nothing occured. He was growing anxious for something, anything. "Five minutes to target, skies are clear."  
  
"Gordon, come up on my seven." Winters' voice from the radio was muffled thanks to his helmet and the painfully excessive noise from the engine of the aircraft, but he could hear it, nonetheless.  
  
"Copy." Glenn carefully piloted his plane past the two bombers and up behind Roger Winters' plane. At least something of signifigance had happened.  
  
"Target is in view." The bombardier's voice kept coming every once in a while in the squad's ears. Everybody was getting itchy. Would they run into trouble? Not if Roger Winters and his proud crew had anything to do with it.  
  
Winters had encountered a whole deal of trouble on escort missions before. He was actually getting a little used to them, and even when the odds were against them, he had come through leading his squadron to victory against numerous air forces. He had even more successful missions to his name than his own father, the General had in his day, and he had recieved the most experience from anyone who was now in the entire 56th squadron from the flight simulators during training, but nothing would prepare him for what was about to happen.  
  
When the squad of Green Earth planes were about three minutes from arriving at the area in the air where the bombers would complete their objective, something loud and something heartstopping got all the pilots' attention like nothing else.  
  
Behind Glenn, something was wrong. A horrific boom had gone through his ears. It had been enough to make glass shatter, or so he felt. He was now struggling to turn around in the cockpit seat to see what was happening, but he had a darned good idea as to what was going on now. He probably wouldn't even have to look behind him to know what had happened.  
  
It had only been a matter of seconds when another massive boom ripped through everyone's hearing. Behind Glenn and Roger, the two bombers that had been flying along the fighter planes were now dropping to the ground in messy balls of smoking and charred scrap. Immediately, the two Green Earth fighter pilots behind Glenn and Roger spread from each other hysterically, each one trying to figure out just what in heck was going on.  
  
"Damn it, Grit must be leading those guys!" Winters' voice sounded quite angry and frustrated.  
  
Down on the ground at the Blue Moon base, a whole company of anti-air was still firing up at the sky, namely towards the Green Earth fighters who were now scrambling around in the air like bees who had no idea what they were doing. A fisherman-like man was safely behind the anti-air machines, holding his ears as he stood next to a group of infantrymen.  
  
"That oughta teach them Green Earth buzzards a lesson they won't soon forget!" Grit had to speak quite loudly in order to talk over the still- blasting anti-air. "Maybe now they'll forget about this fightin' and go home or somethin'!"  
  
At least I hope so, he then thought. He didn't like having to fight against people he didn't even know, but that was war, and those hawks up in the sky were going to be war tragedies if he could help it.  
  
"Where are the bombers!?" Back in the air, one of the pilots' voices was quite hysterical as the anti-air rounds flew up towards the sun all around his plane. "Oh my God!"  
  
"Settle down, boy, being crazy is gonna get you killed!" Winters was too late. The anti-air rounds had already torn through the Green Earth jet he was calling out to, and the plane was now beginning to head towards the ground, black smoke billowing from its remains. "The mission has been called off, get back to base everyone!" Immediately after sending his order to the remaining two pilots that were with him, Winters put his fighter into a wide left turn and kicked in the afterburner.  
  
Glenn Gordon was busy trying to keep calm. He had been in this situation before, but not with this many anti-air dogs shooting up at him like there were today. Before he could tell Winters he had recieved the order and acknowledged it, something in the distance caught his eye. In fact, five things in the distance all got his attention quite nicely.  
  
"Winters, there are enemy fighters coming in!"  
  
Oh great, Roger Winters thought to himself. We've already failed the mission, and now we have to deal with these guys.  
  
"Awaiting orders!" The anti-air was still firing at them from down below.  
  
"Can we get away?" Winters looked through his plane's canopy around the air, trying to determine whether or not they even had a slim chance of escape. It wasn't looking good so far. Even if they somehow got away from the base and enemy fighters, anti-air would probably be waiting for them before they got to the border now that their presence was known. Winters sighed, realizing he should have made out his will when they had encouraged it. "Oh, this is..."  
  
"The enemy fighters are engaging!"  
  
There was no way around it. It was either do or die. "Let's send some Blue Mooners to where they belong."  
  
Immediately, the three Green Earth fighters shifted their courses and began heading towards the five Blue Moon fighters. It must have been quite surprising to the opposing pilots who had fully been expecting a turn and run, but instead, they were going to have to fight. These three Green Earth pilots were certainly some brave people, or maybe they were just crazy and wanted to go down in a blaze of glory.  
  
Winters knew anti-air would have a tough time trying to shoot them down now that they were dogfighting against Blue Moon. If someone down there accidently shot down one of their own fighters when only attempting to help the Blue Moon cause, they would have to face Grit, who would probably be mighty displeased with the action.  
  
Each of the Green Earth fighters, now in a poor excuse for an echelon formation, flew by the Blue Moon fighters at an extremely high rate of speed, and then made steep left turns, the three pilots each hoping they could circle widely enough to get a good shot at one of the enemy fighters.  
  
Instead, the Blue Moon aircrafts were now spread out among the air. It looked like things would get rather messy, but Roger Winters almost thought he saw a holy light when one of the enemy planes found its unfortunate self in the direct line of sight for a handy missile. Seconds later, the plane was headed towards the ground in flames, much to the dismay of the remaining Blue Moon pilots. They're probably going to get more aggresive now, Winters thought.  
  
Glenn Gordon was busy dogfighting against two of the Blue Moon aircraft himself. He had his hands full as the planes swooped and screamed around in the air, each of them trying to find an open shot for their respective sides. Unfortunately for one of the Blue Moon pilots, Glenn found his shot before the two he was fighting with found theirs, and he released a streaming missile towards one of the blue planes. The same fate that had fallen upon Roger Winters' victim encountered this one, too.  
  
As he continued blazing around the sky, now with one more enemy plane to personally deal with, he looked out of the corner of his eye towards the other two pilots in the Green Earth squadron to make sure they were doing alright. It seemed they were faring well and could take care of themselves, at least he knew Roger Winters could, but then, he heard noises that made him re-evaluate the situation he was in.  
  
"PINGPINGPING, PING PING!"  
  
Something that sounded like that was definately not a good sign. Had anti- air gotten him? He looked around, trying to figure out what the noises were, but then he noticed something on the control panel that gave him quite a scare.  
  
His fuel amount was dropping at a dramatic rate. A dramatic rate. As far as he knew, planes weren't supposed to go through fuel that fast.  
  
Glenn struggled to turn himself around a little bit and look behind him again to make sure he wasn't losing fuel, but he wondered to himself why he bothered. Whether his fuel line had been hit by anti-air or not, he was doomed now that he was losing precious food for his aircraft, and even if didn't matter now, when he looked behind him towards the back of his plane through the canopy, he sorrowfully saw a liquidy spray coming out of his fighter and off into the blue sky.  
  
"I'm losing fuel here, Winters!"  
  
"Hang in there!"  
  
Hang in there!? He was losing fuel in a fighter jet over what must have been fifty anti-air machines shooting up at him and a fully defensive Blue Moon base while dogfighting Blue Moon aircraft and all Roger Winters had told him was "hang in there"?!  
  
His fighter was beginning to lose altitude already. Seeing this, the enemy pilot who he had been fighting broke off his quest to take out his enemy and sped off to duel with the remaining two Green Earth pilots.  
  
Glenn was facing a hard dilemma. He could not bail out without risking getting hit by anti-air rounds, and even if he did make it to the ground safely somehow, he'd probably be killed by Blue Moon infantry or taken hostage. He'd never known the Blue Moon army to take a prisoner, though, so he decided bailing out was out of the question.  
  
Instead, he could make a crash landing, but it wasn't like that was a very good choice either. "Arrgh, I don't believe this!"  
  
By now, he was flying away from the Blue Moon base, but not in the direction he had hoped he was going. The other planes were almost out of sight, they were so far away, and here he was with a damaged plane leaking fuel, about to die, unable to bail out successfully.  
  
His fighter was headed directly for a forest. He could bail out now, but his parachute would never open in time for him to safely land. He'd probably get stuck in a tree anyway even if he did. Glenn gritted his teeth as he tried his hardest to keep the doomed aircraft at what wasn't even a balanced level. Before he could hardly brace for impact, the plane tore through the trees of the forest and crashed to the ground, sliding along on the ground at a hundred-fifty miles an hour. It was a rather bumpy ride, in all fairness.  
  
But then, he couldn't see anything.  
  
---  
  
Roger Winters and the only other Green Earth pilot who had made it back safely from the mission stood rather sadly before General John Winters and Captain Clay Shamrock in the office of the General. All of them were now in their casual uniforms, with Roger and the pilot's caps at their sides in their hands.  
  
General Winters spoke now of the situation, but he knew exactly what had happened. He just wanted to hear his son admit what had happened. It made a pilot a better one.  
  
"Major Winters, debrief me on the raid."  
  
It took a moment for Roger to find his voice box.  
  
"Objective one was a failure, objective two was a partial failure. The bombers were taken out before we arrived at the drop point by anti-air from the base, possibly led by commanding officer Grit. We succeeded in destroying two enemy aircraft before we found our escape maneuver. Pilot Marc Vincent, Lieutenant Tyrone Bennetton, Pilot Nick Sunder, and Lieutenant Glenn Gordon all failed to return."  
  
Clay Shamrock had a look in his eye that easily expressed how he felt. Why had he told Gordon to go on that mission? He was the next one to speak. "So far, we've found Vincent, Bennetton, and Sunder's remains, but there's no sign of Gordon. We believe he's crash-landed in Blue Moon territory and that he's probably not alive."  
  
The two active pilots looked pained by this information. It was the unfortunate truth, as Shamrock often liked, or maybe didn't like to put it, but this sort of thing had been going on for the entire war. Every single squadron in Green Earth territory had sadly lost at least one pilot in the military campaign, but it hadn't stopped there thanks to the length of the war so far.  
  
"Major Winters, Pilot Reeves, I want you two to take a while off from flying." The General was addressing both pilots now himself. "What you two just went through is something that no human being should have to go through."  
  
"We're alright, sir. We can keep flying."  
  
"Roger." The General's voice was a little more harsh than it had previously been. "You're taking a week's leave whether you want to or not. I can't have a pilot up there in the skies who's not fully thinking about his objectives."  
  
"But--"  
  
"Maybe you'd like to call my boss and talk to him about it yourself?"  
  
Roger Winters wisely closed his mouth. Although commanding officer Eagle had respect for pilots who wanted to keep flying even after a tragedy such as this one, the man would have the same opinion as Roger's father, and he didn't want to waste the commander's time like that. "No, sir."  
  
"Good. Go into town or something, at least try to have some fun."  
  
The two pilots solemnly stepped out of the General's office. Winters nodded to the other pilot and wished him farewell for the time being, and began walking down the hallway, his mind still not even halfway cleared of the events of earlier. He wasn't going to readily admit he was thinking about it to anyone, though. He felt he would look weak if he did so.  
  
He continued to walk down the halls, towards nowhere in particular. Maybe he'd just go for a good, long stroll. He needed one.  
  
Winters found himself in the barracks at night now, lying on his bunk quietly, staring up at the ceiling. He still couldn't get over the botched mission, and it wouldn't be leaving his head for a good long while, but it seemed he wasn't the only one who was shocked and saddened over the loss of so many good pilots, no, good friends in one day.  
  
Dario Yossarian was sitting on his bunk, his eyes shifting around like he was looking at things other people weren't. Fencer Reeves was now in the middle of a quiet, somber card game with some of the other 56th fliers. "Krazy Kel" Logan had both his wide, bloodshot eyes centered directly on Babar the Elephant and his friends, who were on Kel's small radio-style television. He probably wasn't even listening to the TV though.  
  
"Logan."  
  
Kel Logan unconciously turned his head slightly over in the direction of Winters. The Major repeated himself, this time with a louder tone, and Kel's head broke away from the inane adventures of the pachyderm on the little screen. "Sir?"  
  
Winters found he didn't even know what he wanted to say. He wanted to give Kel some comfort in the fact that the pilots had all died for Green Earth in glory, but that was pretty much a fib. Besides, he was having a hard time dealing with it himself anyway. Once he could deal with it, all would be better. The 56th would not be grounded for long.  
  
"Forget it." Kel didn't even hear Winters this time, his attention was already back towards the screen.  
  
"Captain Shamrock has ordered lights out now, pilots, all lights out, pronto." Someone had stepped by the barracks entrance & exit to give the call for sleep, and Winters welcomed the order. He was tired of today and its reverberating events, but he seriously hoped he wouldn't end up dreaming of them now.  
  
But he couldn't seem to fall asleep when the room got dark. 


	4. III

---  
  
-III-  
  
---  
  
When Glenn Gordon finally came to after his rough ride through the woods in a state-of-the-art aircraft that was now blackened, smoking, and crumpled in every inch of its frame, he didn't even realize he had been knocked out somewhere along the way. To him, the plane had been bumpily rushing towards an unknown target in the forest with no sign of stopping, and then suddenly, he was looking around the cockpit without any idea of what was going on, no hint of blacking out. He looked around, but everything was gray and hazy. Maybe he was still woozy from the ride.  
  
He looked around more. It was deathly quiet. So quiet, in fact, he could almost hear his heart beating. He wondered if he had gone deaf. What was worse, though, was the realization that Blue Moon forces could have spotted him going down and come rushing to get his remains, maybe to either force him to talk of Green Earth's intentions or just plain hold him hostage. But then again, he remembered Blue Moon hardly ever took hostages. Yeah, they'd just kill him instead.  
  
Then he realized he couldn't breathe. Something around him was keeping him from gulping air.  
  
Smoke had consumed the entire cockpit. It was so smokey, he couldn't see his hand in front of his face, nor could he see the controls where he could open the canopy. He struggled around, looking for the correct button in the cockpit that did so, until he finally hit what was the right one. The canopy flew open, allowing the smoke to pour out into the air.  
  
Now, he was faced with another problem. Blue Moon could see the smoke from the forest, most likely, and they'd come looking for him. He was sure to be captured if he didn't get going.  
  
He almost ripped off his aviation helmet and tossed it to the floor of the cockpit at his feet, then undoing his safety belts, he began to steadily climb out of the dead fighter.  
  
On the ground, Glenn finally realized where he was now. He was still in the damned forest, and he didn't even know which way to go. He looked around, possibly for signs of life, but the only life he saw was a chipmunk racing along on a branch, somehow having not run away like it was on Hell skates when a Green Earth fighter jet came crashing into its humble home.  
  
He checked himself for injury. None, apparently, although he found he probably had a couple of cuts on his face when he felt it with his hand and saw a bit of blood. The ride through the forest had been enough to throw his head all around the seat. He'd probably cut his face somewhere along the way.  
  
Then he noticed he was still wearing his belt, with nothing but a wallet with his Green Earth air force pilot identification and a gun's holster on it. He grabbed at the leather holster, making sure his handgun hadn't somehow dissapeared on him somewhere along during his unscheduled landing in Whoknowswhereville. It hadn't, but he wasn't carrying any extra ammunition with him. The ten rounds in the gun would be all the protection he had against Blue Moon if they found him.  
  
He decided he'd better get moving. He wasn't about to let himself get caught by the enemy.  
  
Although he had had his mind on other things of signifigance when his plane was heading towards the ground, he had seen a northern city out of the upper corner of his eye while dealing with a plane that was steadily losing fuel. Now, he wondered if he could get there without being caught, or get there in the first place. He had no idea where he was.  
  
But then he noticed his plane on the ground was facing the same direction it had gone down in. That meant it must have been facing north, or at least he hoped. There was no way to tell exactly, but he decided that heading the same direction the plane had its nose facing was his best bet of finding the city.  
  
So, he began walking north, or what he thought was north. Although the forest was pretty, it was rather dull until he finally got to the edge after what must have been two hours of walking. By the time he got there, he realized he had another long walk ahead of him. The plains went on and on, it seemed, but nevertheless, he continued his trek until he could finally see the city in the distance.  
  
It's about time, he thought to himself. The city had looked closer in the cockpit of the falling plane.  
  
Then something snapped that almost infuriated Glenn on the spot. He hadn't seen the plains in the cockpit of that fighter. What was the matter with him? He had been going the wrong damned way the whole time through the forest and across the plains. Now he was even more lost in Blue Moon territory, he, a pilot with no better weapon than a handgun against insurmountable odds behind enemy lines. He immediately felt like he had had numbers over ahead that were slowly ticking away, the sign of what was to probably come.  
  
He fell to the grassy ground on his behind. He didn't care if he got his green already-dirty pilot suit messed up. Maybe Blue Moon would see him out here sitting on the ground like an idiot, seemingly waiting for them to come and get him.  
  
But then, something pulled him to his feet just seconds after he had hit the ground. It was the desire to get back to the 56th base, back to his friends, and out of this hateful place he was in so he could get back in a new plane and beat the daylights out of Olaf's enslaved troops. A place like this almost made him miss Captain Shamrock and his insane orders, Dario Yossarian and his extreme ways of having a good time in life, and John Winters and his stoney glares. Hell, he even missed "Krazy Kel" Logan and his creepy-- well, Kel was just plain creepy. But he still almost found himself missing every one of them thanks to his new surroundings.  
  
Somehow, he started walking again towards the city, this time more drearily now that he knew he was plain lost.  
  
A good hour later, Glenn found himself walking along on downtown sidewalks of the city. People kept giving him odd looks, mainly because of the scuffs and small scratches on his face, and because of the official Green Earth pilot suit and gunbelt. The suit was one of the only things pilots wore only when they were in the skies, usually.  
  
His stomach rumbled loudly. Someone who was passing by him on the sidewalk gave him a rather peculiar look.  
  
He sighed, realizing he was very, very hungry, but he only had a few dollars on him in his wallet. Only about three days earlier, Dario had conned him into giving him money to buy nearly a dozen magazines at the local town convenience store, those strange magazines that were "behind the counter". Then he had been almost ordered to buy the man a meal and a half at a greasy burger joint. Glenn had unwillingly accepted for both events, but now he regretted it.  
  
He'd have to get something to eat before anything else, he was starving. Maybe he'd find a restroom, too, but that would be later. He earnestly stepped up to a hotdog stand that was on the sidewalk of the busy downtown streets, already able to smell the aroma of steaming pork.  
  
"What'll it be, soldier?"  
  
The young man who was maintaining the stand didn't appear to care that Glenn was in a Green Earth aviation uniform. Perhaps he didn't like Blue Moon and was rooting for the opposing side. All this did was make Glenn feel even worse about the war then he previously had.  
  
"Just a dog, please." The man smiled at him and began working his business, rounding up the necessities for the food.  
  
That was when someone uttered a rather noticable obscenity next to him. The obscenity had been centered on someone in his area, probably him, he thought. He turned around to look at the man who had spoken and give him a few words of irritated wisdom that weren't exactly what the old village elder talking to his tribe would say, but that was when Glenn Gordon realized the man's words were fully justified.  
  
He could hear the sound of army boots all marching together at the same time, clomping along on the ground. The cars by him had all stopped, too. Everyone who had been in line at the hotdog stand was looking over towards the intersection, but his view was blocked by a hefty sidewalk-goer who was gawking at the sight like a dimwit. Everyone else who had been walking on the sidewalk, minding their own business, was stopped and looking at whatever it was they were looking at, rather frightened expressions on their faces.  
  
Glenn couldn't see what everyone was getting so worried over. All he could see was the backside of a large man who looked like he needed to get his big behind on a stairmaster sometime. His view was basically completely blocked.  
  
"What in blue blazes are they all looking at?" He said irritatedly. The young man who was working the hotdog stand obviously couldn't see either thanks to the cow on the sidewalk. Glenn just recieved a shrug from the worker in response.  
  
The huge man finally moved. He took off in a steady walk away from whatever the heck was scaring everyone so much. "Blue Moon is taking the city," he said to the two men at the stand, quietly as to not raise attention from Blue Moon, trying to hide the scare in his face as best he could. He couldn't.  
  
Blue Moon was taking the city? Glenn looked over towards the intersection where all the cars that were on the road had stopped, green light or not.  
  
That's when he saw them. There must have been about fifty of the blue- suited bastards, all marching down the street's pavement together, eight- abreast with the line of the soldiers continuing on down the road for as far as Glenn could see. They were all carrying machine guns, too.  
  
He quickly and frightfully shifted his view towards the other road at the intersection. Rolling slowly down the road in the distance were a dozen or so blue and very large tanks. Medium tanks, as they often put it. "Oh no," he muttered to himself, and as if things weren't bad enough, it appeared another whole division of Blue Moon infantry was marching steadily along behind the tanks, only this time they were carrying bazookas along with their machine guns.  
  
"You'd better run, Green boy!" The man who was working the hotdog stand had come out from behind the stand and nudged him quite hard. "This place is about to become hell!"  
  
Had he heard right? Were all these Blue Moon forces here to capture little old him or something? He almost felt proud and scared at the same time.  
  
"Orange Star infantry and mech forces are in town. Blue Moon's comin' to clean them up, and good too, but I think Orange Star's got the jump on 'em. They're up in those buildings over there." Oh.  
  
"But I think if I were you, Green, I'd run anyway. The Blue Mooners aren't about to let you get away either if they see you in that getup of yours. It'll be like a round of fox huntin' if they see you."  
  
The man had a point. Now was his best bet to get moving, but if his feeling was correct, Blue Moon was coming in from about all sides of the city. That was the keypoint in taking over a town, block all exits and the place was yours. Or at least whoever you worked for's.  
  
"Wait, how do you know Orange Star is here?"  
  
"Don't you worry about that." The young man flashed him a wink.  
  
"You take care of yourself," Glenn told the kid with a quick nod.  
  
"You too, flyboy." The worker nodded back to him. Without a second thought, Glenn began walking with a brisk pace away from the scene. He couldn't run without the enemy forces going after him instantly, and if he stayed, they'd capture him for sure. He had no idea what he should do.  
  
By now, the streets were almost totally empty. Everyone had rushed inside buildings they didn't even know of when they saw Blue Moon.  
  
Only fifteen seconds into his walk, gunshots rang out.  
  
But they didn't stop there. More gunshots pierced his hearing. Glenn hurriedly dropped to the ground on his stomach like a ragdoll, covering his head. Then, something told him to get his butt up and get it moving as fast as he could for somewhere, anywhere inside. He wisely did so.  
  
He took off in a lightning-fast run towards a coffee shop that was down the street a short distance from the intersection he had previously been by. He almost blew through the door, which ended up scaring all of the hiding customers and employees almost more than the gunshots did.  
  
Down the street, about thirty seconds earlier, up in one of the three story buildings that lined along the street, a uniformed Orange Star soldier held a pair of binoculars up to his face as he looked out the third story window towards the coming enemy forces. "Wait for my signal," someone said behind him.  
  
All along the buildings, there were Orange Star infantry and mech soldiers at almost every window, carefully aiming their machine guns and bazookas out at the intruding Blue Moon forces. It looked as though almost all first, second, and third story windows were open and were the current hiding points of infantry and mech units.  
  
When the right time came, a more proudly-uniformed Orange Star officer lowered his fist-clenched hand, not realizing no one was there to see it drop except a few soldiers next to him who apparently didn't have roles in the coming fight except to watch like monkeys. "Proceed!"  
  
Suddenly, every Orange Star soldier who was at an open building window unleashed firearm fury on the blue-suited and gun-toting soldiers who were walking down the streets like perfect targets. Almost instantly, some of the blue in a good portion of the Blue Moon soldiers' uniforms were replaced with red. They dropped to the ground as the remaining Blue Moon forces looked around, wondering what was going on.  
  
The shooting continued. More Blue Moon forces dropped. Now, the Blue Mooners knew what was happening and they were starting to fire back at the open windows where guns could be seen being fired in the direction of blue- suited soldiers and blue-painted tanks.  
  
The noise from the guns drowned out all other sounds in the downtown area of the city. It got painfully loud for everyone who was at the scene of the sudden battle, and people who were working in the nearby office buildings were busy evacuating now that shots were being heard, not knowing going outside was quite a bad idea.  
  
A whole slew of Orange Star soldiers came running out of the buildings the Blue Moon soldiers were shooting at. They immediately began returning fire towards their blue-uniformed enemies, who only now were beginning to find some means of cover. Some of the Blue Mooners had to punch glass windows out with their guns in order to get into restaraunts for cover from enemy fire thanks to locked doors and "closed" signs managers had immediately put up when the shooting started.  
  
Glenn Gordon was busy trying to keep he and everyone else hiding in the coffeehouse cool, but it was an almost impossible task with all the ruckus. One could hardly hear themselves think.  
  
"Is there a back door here!?" One of the young employees looked up from her hiding place behind the counter and pointed towards the back of the shop. Glenn instantly took off for the exit in the back, but to his sudden and heartstopping surprise, a Blue Moon soldier with a very impending bazooka came rushing in through the back door. Both Glenn and the soldier almost did a double take when they saw each other.  
  
Unfortunately for the soldier, Glenn Gordon was able to draw out his sidearm and pump a round of lead into his body quicker than he was able to blast the place to smithereens with whatever lay inside his bazooka, yearning to be fired for a good case of destruction.  
  
But then another blue-clad soldier came in. Then another.  
  
Glenn immediately turned and sped off towards the front of the shop while the soldiers grabbed for the machine guns they had. He somehow got around a corner in time before they fired at him. The rounds from their guns blasted through the glass windows of the shop, instantly causing them to break up and shatter into a thousand pieces.  
  
He could hear the two shouting at each other. "Was that a Green Earth guy!?"  
  
"Who cares, get him!" The two soldiers instantly began a run towards the front of the shop, where the employees and customers were still cowering in fear. As soon as one of them rounded the corner that was basically right in the front of the store where people ordered and the like, two gunshots suddenly rang out, but these gunshots were much closer than the ones outside. The Blue Moon soldier fell back and hit the ground, cursing out loudly as the other one stopped so quickly he almost fell over. He took cover behind the corner's wall, gripping his machine gun as he waited a few seconds before he peeked around to check and see if whatever had blasted the blazes out of his comrade was still there, lurking in the shadows.  
  
"POOM!" A round from the same handgun that had killed the first Blue Moon soldier ripped some of the corner's paint off.  
  
The Blue Mooner immediately stepped back into his little area of cover, gritting his teeth as a sweatdrop ran down his head. "Come out and give yourself up, whoever you are!"  
  
"Not a chance," said a voice that was over where he suspected the enemy was.  
  
The Blue Moon soldier continued to stand there for the next few seconds until he took what was a very risky chance. He turned slightly, raising his machine gun, and let loose some ten rounds before he successfully hid back behind the wall. Had he succeeded?  
  
"You think that'll stop me, you Blue Moon scum?!" Apparently, no.  
  
A massive blast rocked the entire area then. Outside, a medium tank had obviously blown a nearby building to pieces. It was hard to tell who was winning now; Orange Star or Blue Moon  
  
"Give yourself up, I said!"  
  
Irritatedly, Glenn Gordon raised his handgun again and popped off three rounds at the wall's corner, hoping to both hit the Blue Moon soldier somewhere and shut his mouth at the same time, but neither feat was accomplished. "You're not getting away, buddy," the Blue Mooner growled.  
  
This was getting old, and fast. Glenn gritted his teeth. He had to watch himself, he was running out of ammo quickly. He had only a few more bullets left until he would be forced to either run like the blazes or just give up, but then, he heard something from the soldier that, if correctly answered, would give the blue-clad person a surprise, most likely.  
  
"Are you with Green Earth or what!?"  
  
Glenn paused for a few seconds, wondering whether he should tell the soldier the truth or not.  
  
"What do you care?"  
  
Behind the wall, the Blue Moon soldier frowned, but he still figured it was Green Earth. He had been the one of the two soldiers who came in the back together to notice the familiar outfit the man he was now fighting was wearing. His impatient comrade was dead now, probably because he had just figured he would be killing a normal civilian. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"That's none of Blue Moon's concern." The soldier had no idea what he should do, but that was when Orange Star forces rushed into the coffee shop, their weapons raised, ready to fire at about anything that was blue. The fighting had stopped, apparently.  
  
The Blue Moon soldier took off in a scare out the back way before Orange Star could mow him down. Glenn Gordon's fight was over. Shakily, he stood to his feet, realizing that had been his first actual gunfight with Blue Moon. Sure, he had taken out some enemy forces in planes before, but he had never been in a real gun battle with enemy infantry shooting back. He almost felt good about it, that he had defeated the Blue Mooners in such a short time, even if he had only been fighting three of them.  
  
"Hey, you're the missing Green Earth pilot."  
  
One of the Orange Star soldiers was talking to him. He was the what?  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You're the missing Green Earth pilot, aren't you?"  
  
Glenn blinked. Orange Star knew of his dissapearence from the ranks of the 56th squadron base. Green Earth had most likely told Orange Star to be on the lookout for a possibly dead pilot who had crashed in Blue Moon territory if they were passing through cities and woods, and the such. Somehow, they had successfully found him.  
  
"Yeah, I guess I am, if you mean a Green Earth fighter pilot who went down in the woods inside a jet that was starting to turn into a comet."  
  
The Orange Star soldier who he was conversing with smiled. "You're safe now."  
  
That was nice to know, although he didn't exactly believe the man. "Are you taking me with you?" He prayed they would say yes. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in this demolished, smoldering city that was probably still neutral, despite the fact Orange Star had apparently won the battle with the Blue Moon forces. "Of course we are, son. Come on, let's get you to an APC around here."  
  
As they exited the coffee shop, Glenn saw just how big the battle had been. Soldiers' bodies were still lying around, there was massive damage to the buildings around the downtown area too, caused by medium tanks that were now sitting peacefully, obviously dead from bazooka rounds fired by Orange Star mech units.  
  
The Orange Star soldiers led him to a group of APCs that was taking the wounded and others back to somewhere. He didn't know where yet. Thankful of the forces that he was with now, he climbed into the back of one of the APCs, and allowed himself to smile weakly. He was so tired, he could hardly bloody smile.  
  
After a couple of minutes, the group of APCs were on the move, and so was Glenn Gordon. Finally, on the move, towards safety.  
  
---  
  
Roger Winters was in the local town bar by the Clinton air base, and he had brought along a friend of his too, one who went by the name of Dario Paul Yossarian. The man called Yossarian had relentlessly bugged the living stink out of Winters, up to the point where if he didn't go take the idiot along with him to get a beer he'd be forever outcast as a good leader by the man who had spread many, many rumors about people before.  
  
He was sitting at the bar sipping a light soda. Yossarian had conned him out of the five dollars he had brought with him. Now, he was boredly watching the television in the roof's corner of the bar. The news was on, and it would not quit about the battle between Orange Star and Blue Moon in the neutral city earlier. So Orange Star and Blue Moon fought a little, it wasn't like it was absolutely universe-shattering news. Reporters and their "hot stories." But then, he saw someone on the news, on one of those awful "amateur video" things, someone racing along on the sidewalk who looked deathly familiar.  
  
Immediateley, Roger Winters slapped the hell out of Dario Yossarian's back, causing the already-plowed man to grunt noisily. "Yossarian, get back to base on the double, I'll be there myself in a little bit! Meet outside the General's office as soon as possible, we must inform General Winters and Captain Shamrock of something, and quickly!" 


	5. IV

---  
  
-IV-  
  
---  
  
The Orange Star APCs finally rolled into the designated base of operations late at night, probably near midnight, as Glenn figured. He wasn't wearing a watch or anything of the sort, but nightfall had fallen upon them hours before. He had secretly peeked out the back of the APC he was riding in although Orange Star regulations told it had to be closed at all times while the vehicle was moving. When they finally arrived, he couldn't help but wonder just how late it was.  
  
The APCs chugged up to a space where their engines died. A slew of orange- clad soldiers and medics came sliding out of all of the vehicles, attempting to get the wounded into shelter where they could be treated properly. Glenn Gordon stepped out of the one he had been in and looked around. It was a rather lively base, despite the hour. Orange Star personel were still rushing about going every which way he could see. The attack on Blue Moon in the neutral city had been an important one, obviously.  
  
He pondered where the base exactly was. He had no idea if he was in Orange Star or Blue Moon territory now. After examining his surroundings from his spot, he began walking towards what he thought was the base's command center. It was simple to tell, seeing as how most of the people around him were coming in and out of its doors. As he stepped through the doors of the base's apparent command center, someone instantly came up at a brisk pace to meet him. "Glenn Gordon? Of Green Earth?"  
  
Glenn nodded warily. "That's me."  
  
"Come with me, sir, Colonel Baxter wants to see you." This Baxter fellow must have been the leader of this outfit, Glenn figured. When the kid he was speaking with began walking down one of the hallways, the Green Earth pilot had no choice but to follow him like a dog. He wasn't about to stay here and get a tan, he wanted to get back to where he belonged.  
  
Soon, he was in the office of Colonel Troy Baxter. The first thing that popped into Glenn Gordon's mind when he saw the Colonel was that the man needed a shave, quite badly at that. It also looked as though a bath couldn't hurt.  
  
"Mr. Gordon, it's good to finally meet you."  
  
"You too," Glenn lied. He wanted to leave the Orange Star base whether the people in it wanted to help him or not.  
  
"I saw your picture on the tele, kid. You're the missing pilot everyone's been talking about on the news." He had been on the news? That was certainly interesting. When he had joined the air force, he had never even thought about this little thing called fame, even less of medals and the like. He was in the air force to fly some planes and kick some butt, not get famous and recieve decorations. He had to admit, though, getting his wings formally planted on his uniform by the leader of flight school had been nice.  
  
Glenn got right to the point with his next message, surprising the Colonel a good deal. "Is there any way I can get back to the Clinton airbase as fast as possible?"  
  
"Well, now, don't be so impatient, boy. We're doing what we can to get you moving to Green Earth. We're sending some APCs and recon trucks over there to deliver some supplies to those boys anyway. Maybe they can drop you off at Clinton."  
  
So he was going home, or going to what he felt was a home sometimes. It had been about bloody time, too. "When are they leaving?"  
  
"0800 hours, tomorrow morning, son. 'Til then... you can sleep in the barracks with the other Orange Star fighters. And make sure you get a good night's rest, those guys leave at eight, sharp." Glenn stood before the Colonel a few moments more. "Thank you." He then nodded slightly and anxiously exited the office.  
  
It had taken him nearly half an hour to even find the barracks. As small a base it was, it had proved simple to get lost with all the hustle and bustle going on around him. He had asked nearly a dozen people were the barracks were and he just kept getting more lost and lost until he finally just stumbled into what he thought were the restrooms of the base.  
  
Now, he was lying on a bunk, waiting for himself to doze off. Unfortunately, it probably wouldn't be such an easy thing to do, seeing as how the Orange Star soldiers were just as knowledgable on having a good time no matter the hour as Dario Yossarian was.  
  
Glenn Gordon grabbed his pillow and pushed it around his head, trying to get at least some peace in his ears, gritting his teeth angrily, but finally the soldiers all quieted down after a little while. When he was finally drifting towards sleep, he fully expected the irritating face of Dario to come barging in suddenly, yelling like a banshee about something that was of the littlest signifigance Glenn could ever imagine. Instead, when he was approximately half a second from falling into sleep, something startled him a great deal. Gunfire, and lots of it, too.  
  
Oh no, he immediately thought. His chances of getting home were almost completely torn apart as he listened to the continuing machine gun rounds. Around him, the Orange Star soldiers were all flailing around like goofs, trying to put on their helmets and pants at the same time. They couldn't quite get to their guns yet, either. But outside, there was a different story. Orange Star forces were already engaging the attacking Blue Moon infantry heading towards them from the east.  
  
Glenn jumped out of bed, almost looking for all the world like a kangaroo on springs, and dashed towards the exit of the barracks, growling and grumbling not-so-nice things to himself. Of all the driven luck, here he was, so close to successfully reporting back to his stationed base after all the bull he had gone through, and now the chances of even leaving this place were slim thanks to those complete morons outside in the blue outfits!  
  
Not to mention, thanks to the complete morons outside in the blue battle copters and blue tanks that were now coming up from behind the completely moronic blue suited folk from the east towards the Orange Star base of operations. He had to get out of here, and fast. Out of the base, away from this damn fight. He had already seen one earlier, he wasn't about to become a victim of this war, especially after looking death in the eye and slapping it with a glove inside a falling plane.  
  
He was now outside, still in his Green Earth aviation suit. He hadn't even remembered to take the damned thing off before he had hit the sack.  
  
Orange Star soldiers all rushed by him, toting their machine guns in their arms, many of them yelling like maniacs and others quiet as chameleons. Instead of heading for wherever they were all going, Glenn wisely took off in the opposite direction. A few seconds into his run, he spotted the APC he had come into the base in, and he somehow allowed himself to smile.  
  
That is, until the APC was blown in half a tank round.  
  
Now, Orange Star troopers were running by him, these ones carrying bazookas. Much needed bazookas. Glenn Gordon had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to be doing. He sure as the sun wasn't going to stay and fight these Blue Moon pinheads, he was a Green Earth soldier for crying out loud. Fighting alongside Orange Star in a battle such as this would look just plain wierd, anyway.  
  
But then, something almost magical. The APCs and recon units he was supposed to leave with the next morning were preparing to leave now! Like lightning, he sped off for the pack, away from the battle.  
  
At the group of APCs and recon trucks, a soldier was busy yelling orders all around him to the APC drivers and recon units. He sounded so much like what Glenn Gordon had imagined to be one's drill sergeant in boot camp. "Hurry up with the wounded and the Green Earth supplies, men!" They were obviously in a hurry, no doubt due to the ensuing battle on the other side of the dark base.  
  
"Hey," Glenn called to the soldier, having to yell in order to be heard over the battle sounds. "You guys going to Green Earth?"  
  
He got a nod from the soldier still barking orders in response. "Then I'm going with you."  
  
"Ohh," the soldier turned, now giving Gordon his full attention. "You're that dogmeat from Green Earth who almost got his ass burned away over Blue Moon!"  
  
Dogmeat?  
  
"Sure, you can come with us, boy. We have to use the APCs for the wounded and supplies, though, but you can hitch a ride in one of the recon trucks." The soldier gave him a nod and a quick wink before he began yelling and cursing at the soldiers like a truck driver who were all irritatedly working at getting the orders completed. Glenn Gordon instantly went into a rush over towards one of the orange colored trucks that already had someone at the wheel and another soldier out of the roof, holding the machine gun that was actually part of the vehicle.  
  
"I'm coming with you guys."  
  
The soldier at the wheel just gave him a mild shrug. "Hop in, then."  
  
Well, that had been easy. Gordon grinned and quickly slipped around to the other side of the truck, and slid into the passenger's seat inside, shutting the door and instantly buckling his safety belts afterwards.  
  
They didn't get moving as quickly as he had previously hoped, though. The Orange Star troops were still loading into the APCs. The battle sounds on the other side of the base showed no signs of slowing down. "Damn it, how long is this going to take?"  
  
"Probably a minute or so more, hold your horses, Green."  
  
He sighed impatiently, closing his eyes, praying the long line of APCs and recon trucks would get moving very soon.  
  
Finally, after what seemed like hours to Glenn and seconds to most everyone else, the trucks began moving at a quick pace. They all rolled away from the base that was only now being massively stormed by Blue Moon infantry. It had been a very, very close call for Orange Star. Too bad, too, they had lost this battle, apparently.  
  
He let loose his breath which he had been holding for the last minute or so. He was safe, again, or so he thought. Now, he didn't even know safety when it smacked him upside the head and cursed him out. There he had been in a peaceful little Orange Star base when everything suddenly went "to the boiler room" as his superiors put it.  
  
He sighed, and slumped down in the seat, crossing his arms as the long line of Orange Star trucks rolled along. 


	6. V

---  
  
-V-  
  
---  
  
"Damn! Step on it already!"  
  
Glenn was becoming very angry. It seemed as if he could not go half a damn day without being shot at by one of those Blue Moon bastards. The Orange Star APCs and recon trucks were all under attack now from Blue Moon infantry that was suited up on a mountainside, all twenty of the enemy soldiers firing down at the orange-painted vehicles who, despite being targets for enemy fire, continued their seemingly unstoppable trek towards the border.  
  
Ahead, he could see for himself out the truck's windshield that not all was going so well. Some of the APCs were beginning to show signs of damage from the constant fire of Blue Moon machine guns, and some of the gunners on the recon units had already been shot and incapacitated. The long line of APCs and recon trucks had picked up speed, but not much. It was hard for the recon gunners to get good shots at the infantry up on the hill, although technically, they could win in a clean fight against this particular brand of unit.  
  
I don't believe this, Gordon thought.  
  
"Faster," the gunner on their recon truck yelled. "I'm out of ammo!" Of course. Of-bloody-course. And what was worse was that the truck hardly picked up any speed at all. Glenn realized that now their only bet was to outrun the infantry, but with a slow hunk of junk such as this one, it would probably take centuries!  
  
"I thought recon trucks were supposed to be faster than this!"  
  
Unfortunately, he didn't recieve the answer he desired. All he got was a typical shrug from the driver of the vehicle, and this just infuriated him more.  
  
"I swear, if this thing doesn't start moving within the next five se--"  
  
"Hey, you can walk if you want, boy!"  
  
Enemy rounds ricochetted off the ground around the truck, causing all three of the men riding along in it to cover their heads and duck down into what was nowhere near the amount of cover they wanted. How in the world were they supposed to get away now? Glenn Gordon looked out the window and to the sky, praying as hard as he'd ever prayed before.  
  
And that was when two green bomber planes came soaring across the sky and dropped their deadly cargo right on the mountainside the Blue Moon infantry had been at.  
  
Gordon gaped out the window like a zombie. At first, he had thought the two UFOs in the clouds were big, green angels looking out for him, but then he almost went wild with excitement. "Hey, it's the guys from the 56th! Hot damn, it's the 56th and they just saved our asses!"  
  
The driver of the recon truck gave the Green Earth pilot a look he usually didn't give people he thought were normal. "What're you talking about? We radioed those sombitches a half hour ago. Remember?"  
  
"What?" Glenn Gordon eyed the driver, unsure of what he had just heard.  
  
"Oh, no, you were asleep or something. Sorry." Without saying anything more, the driver deliberately looked back to the road with a bored look upon his face in an attempt to smite the pilot's anger.  
  
Glenn just grabbed at his forehead as the green bombers circled around and began heading back in the direction they came from. He wondered when they'd get back to Green Earth, but he decided to not say anything more to the aggravating driver of the recon truck for the rest of the trip.  
  
Somewhere along the road, Glenn Gordon could see black, billowing smoke far off in the distance, not towards the direction they were headed but past a group of mountains that were obscuring his view. He couldn't help but wonder what had happened.  
  
"What the heck do you think happened?" The driver read his mind. Even though Glenn had made a notion to not talk to the man at the wheel, it couldn't be helped. "I'm not sure, I hope whoever's over there is alright."  
  
They continued on for a little while. The line of APCs and recon trucks had long since passed the border, and Glenn was growing anxious to get back to his base, back to his friends, back to everything he had ever hated about the darn pithole. He was also anxious to get off his rear end. He had been sitting in the seat for what seemed like forever now, and it hurt him like the dickens.  
  
He kept having to move around in the seat to get comfortable. Somehow, this successfully annoyed the poker chips out of the driver. "Will you STOP that!?"  
  
"Maybe if you and these other little old ladies we're with would drive a little faster than half the speed cows travel at, we wouldn't still be in this damned thing, me not having to move all around to keep my rear end from losing its nerves because of pain shock."  
  
"Boy, if you say something about my truck one more time, I am gonna grab that tongue of yours and--" But then, both of them instantly became quiet. The Clinton air base was in view, and so was something else they hadn't fully expected on seeing.  
  
It never ends, Glenn Gordon thought to himself.  
  
A bit to the east of the airbase, he could see what looked to be around fifteen planes buzzing around in the air like bees, each one trying to get the drop on one-another. Some were green, but many more were blue. His fears were confirmed: the Clinton air base was under attack, right at his arrival, too.  
  
Olaf must have ordered the attack, Glenn thought. Now, he could see that off in the distance, there was smoke and fire. Blue bombers and green fighters lined the ground, every one that was randomly parked obviously having taken a massive deal of damage. Glenn Gordon was having a hard time catching his throat.  
  
Then he realized that the smoke he had seen earlier along the road must have been the bombers that had saved them all, taken out by the same Blue Moon fighters who were up there in the skies now, horrifically battling it out with Green Earth's own jets and pilots. "Damn, that's some fight, huh kid?"  
  
He didn't even hear the man sitting next to him now. Instead, he shouted a very loud order that was instantly obliged. "Get this chunk of scrap heap over to that base NOW before I just strangle you and take the wheel!"  
  
Less than a minute later, the recon truck that had suddenly broken out of the long line formation and taken off ahead of all the others on the road screeched to a halt in front of the Clinton airbase command center. Glenn Gordon got out like he was on fire.  
  
He raced right into the command center building without another word for his new "pal" from Orange Star's recon driving divison, and looked around warily. Where was everyone? They were probably hiding, as he figured. "Is anyone here?"  
  
"Glenn Gordon, if that's you, I will be damned."  
  
Of all people who could have said such a thing, it was General John Winters who had spoken out from under a desk. Apparently, he and a few others were trying to keep calm while they had been radioing headquarters all the while the fighting had been going on at their own little airbase, but to no avail. Help would not be arriving in time, most likely.  
  
"Lieutenant Gordon, I WILL be damned!"  
  
"Sir!" Glenn saluted the General, rather surprised he was on the ground under the desk like a coward. Of all people, he should be the one who was bravely leading his troops into combat. "Where is everyone?"  
  
"Where the hell do you think they are, Gordon? They're either up there or they're on the ground burning up with the rest of their aircraft."  
  
Oh no, Glenn thought. He was willing to bet most of his friends and fellow pilots were out there in the new plane retirement yard.  
  
High up in the air at the same time, inside the cockpit of a Green Earth fighter jet, Major Roger Winters was one of barely five planes left battling against the enemy Blue Moon fighters. He was having a very hard time surviving, to say the least, and if things kept up, he'd be nothing more than another "war victim". He'd be forgotten just like that, and he wasn't about to let that happen, not if he had anything to do with it.  
  
"Winters, where in the world are you!?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Captain, but I'm having some problems of my own right now." Captain Clay Shamrock was also one of the remaining fliers in the skies battling alongside Winters. He hadn't been in the seat of a fighter for ages, but it felt good to get back in one, that was for sure.  
  
"We sure could use some anti-air right now."  
  
They'd probably bumble up and shoot us down instead, Winters thought to himself. Everything else had gone wrong this week, why not that too?  
  
"Wi--" Static. Then a very loud boom.  
  
"Captain?" Things had just gotten worse before Winters could even remark to himself on his own thought.  
  
Glenn Gordon hurriedly rushed over to one of the remaining Green Earth fighters sitting by the base's runway, his new aviation helmet in his hand as he raced up to it. Before the General could tell him not to bother getting up into it and getting himself killed, Gordon already had the plane's engines warming up.  
  
"Gordon, I have no idea why you're doing this, please re-think your decision, don't get yourself killed" the voice told him over the radio.  
  
Glenn didn't bother listening. By the time he was taking off and lifting the hefty plane into the air, he could see another Green Earth fighter was going down. It crashed miles away, far away from the base, but it was still quite a saddening sight. He wondered who the pilot was.  
  
He was gaining elevation now, and soon, he'd have a part in the fight. He felt anxious, determined to defeat his enemies or die trying. Just for a quick check, though, he decided he'd better try to radio someone he had a feeling was still fighting.  
  
"Winters, you up here?"  
  
There was a little bit of static, but seconds later, he recieved an angry response. "Yes, and I could use some help, for crying out loud!" Winters definately was having a great deal of trouble, despite the fact he was the best pilot in the entire 56th squadron, but now that more than half the 56th was gone thanks to this attack on their base, it wasn't too hard a role to fend off against others.  
  
But before Lieutenant Glenn Meyer Gordon could even look at his enemy, he found they weren't even there, ready and willing to fight.  
  
The sons of bitches were flying away!  
  
"What on Yellow Comet are they DOING!?" It was impossible to tell who was speaking over the radio now.  
  
"Th-they're retreating!" There were only a few Green Earth fighters in the skies now against what must have been ten Blue Moon fighters, and the enemy jets were flying away from the Clinton air base and its remaining aerial gladiators like cowards with their tails tucked away inside where they needed a good kick right about then.  
  
"I don't believe it. They're retreating." Gordon could only shake his head in absolute amazement at the events unfolding before him.  
  
"Unbelievable." Roger Winters was thinking the same thing as they all watched the enemy fighters blow away from the Clinton airbase, headed back north for the Blue Moon border. Instantly, Glenn could feel his rage building. The Blue Mooners who had killed so many good pilots and destroyed so many lives were now retreating like cowards. They had probably had simply recieved new orders, but still, it was horrible, unfair, unjustified. He still had no idea who was alive and who wasn't.  
  
Moments later, the remaining Green Earth fighter jets all began to make their landings back on the runway, their pilots sadly only having half their mind on flying the planes correctly. It was hard to think straight when such an act had just occured.  
  
Although Glenn Gordon landed his plane first, he was the last to exit his. 


	7. VI

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-VI-  
  
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The 56th squadron personel were all sitting on metal folding chairs in what looked to be a park, but was actually something none of them wanted to be at. Many of the pilots were there, including Fencer Reeves and "Krazy Kel", who had somehow successfully bailed out of his falling plane when it bit the big one during the dogfight to save Clinton.  
  
Glenn Gordon was sitting in the front row of seats, wearing his decorative air force uniform, watching the scene in front of him. A week before, two days after the vicious attack on the Clinton airbase, he, Roger Winters, and a few other 56th pilots had been awarded medals and a ribbon or two he didn't even remember the names of, medals he didn't even want, but he had formally accepted them nonetheless. The medals and ribbons were now hanging calmly and proudly on their uniform chests, like they made the people they were gripping "real war veterans".  
  
An old Green Earth patriotism song was playing on the bagpipes now. He continued to sit there in the hard metal folding chair, stone-faced, as Roger Winters kept one eye on the funeral and one on Glenn Gordon.  
  
"Gord--"  
  
"Please, sir."  
  
Winters was forced to keep his voice down as to not upset the ceremonies. "Gordon, we need to talk when this is over."  
  
"Well, then, we'll talk when this is over, Major." For some dumb reason, Glenn Gordon seemed to have no problem with upsetting the ceremonies, for he did not lower the sounds he came out with at all. Winters shook his head sadly, and simply looked back to the scene, realizing that dealing with the pilot during the funerals of so many good people, including Dario Yossarian and Clay Shamrock, was useless unless he felt like raising a stink from the dead's family members.  
  
When the depressing ceremonies were over and everyone was still in the cemetary, conversing with each other, Winters instantly decided to deal with Gordon at this time. "I'm sorry about Dario and Clay."  
  
No response.  
  
"The Blue Moon fighters apparently got orders to go back, Glenn, one of Blue Moon's key cities was being attacked by Orange Star. You should be happy to know that anti-air took quick care of them." Winters almost found himself praying that Glenn Gordon would give him any sort of response. He should, after all, he had just learned what had become of the people he hated most this past week.  
  
Still no response.  
  
Winters growled to himself without actually making any noise, and got straight to the point. "Glenn, I think it'd be a good idea if you got out of the air force as soon as possible."  
  
Glenn didn't seem surprised, nor did any emotions seem to emit. "Why's that?"  
  
"It's just, well, you've been through alot of what pilots barely imagine when they join the flights." The Major had a point, a strong one at that, and this crazy idea of him "leaving the air force" didn't exactly sound like a bad thing either, but then Winters sighed, looking away from Glenn and backs towards a pilot's new grave. "The Orange Star boys called Eagle the other day."  
  
The Orange Star forces had called Eagle? That actually sounded like some of a surprise to Glenn. Winters had a feeling it was surprising due to the uncomfortable look on the guy's face when he looked back towards Gordon. "What do you mean, they called him?"  
  
"They recommended your leave from the air force personally, Glenn. They saw you when you were at that base. They said you looked like hell." That had been true, he had looked "like hell". Messed up hair, dirty aviation uniform, scratches all over him, and so much more than that, more than he could ever remember for the life of him.  
  
"We'll see, Roger."  
  
"Gordon--"  
  
"I said, we'll see about it." With a quick salute towards the superior officer, Glenn Gordon solemnly walked away from the fresh graves of honored Green Earth pilots, and began sauntering along beside the graves, looking at each of them, at the names of the pilots who had been lost in the line of duty for Green Earth.  
  
Roger Winters watched the pilot walk away, and he looked back towards the grave before him for a few moments. He saluted it highly.  
  
And then he turned and began walking in his own direction.  
  
---  
  
"I guess that's about.  
  
The war had taken a toll on all of us at the 56th. For most, the price was their lives, but for me, the price was the biggest one I felt I could ever pay. The day after the funerals, I turned in my wings to the Green Earth air force. I couldn't deal with the war anymore, it had gotten to me so badly I just couldn't take it anymore. Although some felt I was a good pilot, maybe even the best at the 56th, I about went down in a blaze the day Blue Moon attacked us. I don't think I was ever really the same.  
  
But I never did hear from my former flying partner again. I don't even know what's happened to him, I don't know if he's even alive. Maybe he'll read this interview you guys are doing with me, and he'll finally give me a call after all this time.  
  
I'm figuring he's sitting back somewhere in Orange Star right now, either in a lounge chair or a coffin. Heck, maybe he's in the Orange Star army or air force or something. Who knows, maybe he's a CO by now.  
  
That'd be Glenn Gordon for you. Just when you think he's dead, you'd see him on TV or somethin', racing along on a sidewalk faster than one of those planes he flew. I wouldn't be surprised. That's because the man's a fighter.  
  
Just like those planes he flew and just like all those other guys from the 56th, he's a fighter."  
  
-Ret. Major Roger D. Winters, G.E.A.F. Green Earth Aviation Magazine Interview 


End file.
